We are not unaccustomed to politicians of this type even now! Well, Mr. Gladstone passed his Church Act, which has proved in many respects a great blessing to the Irish Church. She gained self-action and independence thereby; her finances have been so skilfully administered and the liberality of her members has been so great that she has now a realised capital of over nine millions! It is estimated that for her numbers she is, in money, the richest Church in Christendom. None of us who belong to her would revert, were the offer open to us, to the state of her condition and circumstances prior to 1869—“Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness.” How true that parable of Samson’s has often proved with regard to changes which were, at first, denounced and dreaded, and afterwards regarded with gratitude! Generally, the effect produced on Irish public opinion by Mr. Gladstone’s Church Act, on the whole, was in time beneficial. It removed what was at least a “sentimental grievance” from Roman Catholics. It also taught them before very long that the Church of Ireland could exist as a voluntary institution; and some Nationalists from time to time have even said that the efficient and capable management of the Representative Church Body of the Church funds was an object lesson in favour of Home Rule. Every one at all familiar with this subject knows that 1881 was a very terrible year in Ireland; it is unnecessary to enlarge upon the painful fact. Then, or thereabouts, I went to see a land-agent whose life had several times been attempted. It was in the summer; he was writing at a tall, stand-up desk, on the upper ledge of which lay a revolver. I sat down by an open window to enjoy the fresh air, from which he immediately pulled me away and deposited me in a corner of the room under shelter of a wall, not of glass. Presently we adjourned to the dining-room for lunch. This was also an arsenal or place of arms; a double-barrelled gun lay on a sofa. When my friend opened a press to obtain “the materials”—Irishmen will know what is meant—I saw therein a brace of horse-pistols. After lunch we went out for a walk, my friend carrying his gun under his arm, and, I suppose, his revolver in his pocket. A policeman armed with a loaded rifle, followed a few yards in our rear. Life under such circumstances could not have been very agreeable. Would anyone like to revert to it? Surely not. In the same year I was visiting an Irish landlord who was very seriously ill; his home was about four miles distant from my glebe house; sometimes I had to go to see him by night. One morning the doctor, who had been with the patient for several hours, was anxiously inquired of by the ladies of the family how their father was. “Well, all I have to say to you,” said the doctor, “is, that you may be very thankful that your father is allowed to die quietly in his bed such times as these.”